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 The Healer
Second Circle

Book seven of
“The Way” series
By Mike Ignatov
 Copyright © 2022 Mike Ignatov
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product
of the author’s imagination or used fictionally. All resemblance to actual events, locals, or
persons, living dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
Introduced by Valeria Kornosenko
Translated by Sanja Gajin
Cover design by Valery Spitsin
 Content
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Epilogue
From the author
Don’t miss the next book!
Books to read
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 Prologue

I
never took my family
members to these training
sessions. Before, I used to
go to the forest alone, and
now, Zolak’s shadow always loomed behind my back.
“Don’t look at me like that, sir. Your bloodlust is so strong that it
drowns out the wind.”
“You can hear the wind?”
“Air is my element, sir. I’m sure that you, too— Well, not hear,
but feel the Water.”
I slowed down so that Zolak could catch up with me and I
wouldn’t have to turn around to see his face. Or rather, his Decrees.
As usual, I was more interested in them than I was in my
companion.
“I heard that people in the Second Circle don’t like those with
completely dyed hair.”
To my surprise, Zolak answered directly, without beating
around the bush like Sheleost did.
“That’s true. Especially in the senior factions.”
One of the Decrees, the tricolor one, began to pulsate slightly.
First, it flared up, and then it faded. I remembered how Sheleost’s
face twisted when he told me a made-up story about how to obtain
power. The fact that he could resist my abilities was testament to his
strength. I didn’t pry any further. Why push the boundaries of
something you weren’t even allowed to approach? Lost in thought, I
continued to study Zolak’s Decrees, coming to my senses only when
he frowned and called out to me.
 “Sir?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about something.”
I averted my gaze. I must’ve looked strange, unable to take
my eyes off the man walking next to me. Clearing my head, I asked
the question that tormented me.
“How do you know how much longer you have to live? Are you
under a Decree that you don’t intend to fulfil?”
“No. Even though I’m old, I wouldn’t sign such a contract,” he
said, making me smile wryly. “Such a thing cannot be done without
my knowledge and blood. Like I said, I’ve been poisoned.”
No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t find anything that
would kill Zolak among the contracts and Decrees hanging above his
head. Except the tricolor one. But what did Zolak have to do with the
Vilors?
“It seems to me that dealing with poison is much easier than
dealing with Decrees. The money you gave me could have been
spent on treatment.”
“You’re still too young, sir. The best things aren’t sold for
money, but favors.”
“How’s that?”
“How can you refuse to help someone who saved you? Life is
much more valuable than money.”
“So what are they demanding? Security?”
“Least of all. You’re lucky if they accept a unique item as
payment. Fulfilling their requests immediately isn’t as bad as when
they make you promise to fulfill them some other day. I dislike such
vague contracts.”
“But that’s exactly the kind of contract you and I have.”
 “You’re not the same as them, sir. If things were different, I
would’ve asked you for something less vague.”
I nodded. That was Zolak’s opinion. In my case, the contract
didn’t matter. The deal could mean anything or nothing. A Master of
Decrees signing a contract... What nonsense. Realizing that we had
stopped and that Zolak was still looking at me, I cleared my throat
and spoke up.
“I will fulfill my promise,” I assured him. “Zotar will be a free
man. Even if I wanted to make him my servant, it wouldn’t change
anything. He would never agree to it.”
“I would not want my grandson to begin his life in the Second
Circle as a fugitive. None of us know at what point will unresolved
problems from the past come back to haunt us. This is the same as
if you decided to become a respected merchant, achieved your goal,
and suddenly the guard is knocking at your door with a promissory
note and accrued interest.”
I remembered Uncle Varo’s story and nodded again.
“I understand. So none of the best alchemists in the Circle
wanted to do you a favor?”
“That’s not entirely true. I think that no more than one or two
people in the Circle can heal me. I just don’t want to waste time
looking for them.” Noticing that I was still looking at him, Zolak
finally gave up. “The poison was made in the Second Circle. It’s a
very strong concoction imbued with an element unknown to me. It’s
burning my body from the inside. Poisoning is the preferred method
for some dwellers of the Second Circle, mainly those who don’t want
to use the services of Masters of Decrees to force another person to
do something. Unlike poison, Decrees leave a clear trail back to their
owner. Few want other Masters of Decrees to find out that the
bearer of a Decree will be killed should they fail to complete their
task.”
“Sounds like Shadow Guild business to me.”
Zolak chuckled.
“You said it, not me.”
“Odd that such a thing can be found in the First Circle.”
“It isn’t that odd. All sorts of things get into the First Circle
through the Gate every month. Especially among the factions’
rewards for talented cultivators.”
“From the Imperials?”
“From them, too. The bad thing is that, sometimes, these
things fall into the wrong hands. Like into the hands of fools who
don’t know that a poison needs an antidote.”
I stayed silent. I had nothing to say in response. This was
probably why Zolak was trying to save his grandson by fleeing across
the border. He hadn’t forgiven the one who poisoned him.
Without noticing, we reached our destination. Out of
politeness, I raised my hands a little and put my fist to my palm.
“I’ll start training. Please, watch my back.”
Zolak raised his hand, stopping me in my tracks.
“Sir, since we’re talking about this. I don’t want my skills to go
to waste. So, please... Accept this humble gift.”
He handed me a scroll, which I unrolled with a movement that
had become habitual for me over the past few days.

Wind Veil
Concealment Technique
Rank: Human
 Quality: High
Constellation: First
Element: Air
Condition: six unlocked nodes (Tau-Cha-Di...)
The Heavenly Energy pours into the technique and
envelops the Walker with a veil of wind, drowning out all
the sounds he makes.
Initial level of mastery: The Veil envelops only the
Walker’s skin, hiding his breath, but not his steps and the
rustling of his clothes.
Intermediate level of mastery: The Veil envelops the
Walker’s clothes, drowning out their rustling and the sound
of footsteps.
Perfect level of mastery: The Veil stays a finger’s length
away from the Walker’s clothes, drowning out even his
shouts.

“It’s a modest technique, but Zotar will soon perfect its second
constellation and will be happy to create a scroll for you. Also, he
knows where to find the third-constellation scroll in the Second
Circle. And it’s already comparable to the Terrestrial rank.”
I let the scroll roll down. Zolak still didn’t trust me. He wouldn’t
have come up with this whole technique trick otherwise. It was an
odd trick, really. Even more so since the ability wasn’t good enough
for me to be all that interested in it. And its rank was low. I had such
techniques even in the First Circle. To speak nothing of the riches of
the Second that were waiting for me. A simple and cheap Amulet
that I looted from the Tigers rendered the Wind Veil useless,
allowing me not to think about the need for such a thing or fuss with
Multiplication and cooling meridians. I rarely used the Emerald Lizard
but... But I understood Zolak. He was worried about his grandson.
The scroll went into the pouch, and I folded my hands in gratitude.
“Thank you for the gift, Zolak. Zotar and I will learn its third
constellation together.”
“Thank you for your kind words, sir.”
Zolak stayed under the sprawling Sonoma, as he usually did,
and I stepped toward the clearing with the stone, changing Forms as
I walked and allowing the energy to wash over my whole body. As
soon as it returned to the focus, it poured into three meridians.
Today, the energy would move to the last node by those three paths.
Four paths — I also filled my body with the mist of power, which
rushed to the bottomless node in my head. Those that I started to
fill with power later had been opened for a long time, but this one
still refused to give in, absorbing everything I sent into it. One node
separated me from the tenth star. However, the real name of the
node seemed not to be Tau-Cha-Kron but Abyss.
When the focus was almost empty, I touched the pouch and
retrieved six pieces of jasper from it. My right arm rose slowly and
with difficulty. The damaged muscles refused to comply but I was
already used to it. All that mattered was that I could raise it halfway.
I had grown accustomed to the pain of an improperly executed Form
already. First cycle, second, third, balance... I hadn’t thought about
all this for a long time, but the energy in the meridians seemed to
know what to do. How many Cycles had I done already? A hundred?
No less, that much was for sure.
It had only been two weeks since the Gate was last opened.
Today wasn’t the poorest day in terms of heavenly energy. It poured
into me in threads and sank into my body, where it was absorbed
into three circles of the Cycle, filling me with power... and with pain.
The kind of which I wasn’t used to. Six pieces of jasper was far from
my limit, but there was no need to frighten my relatives with
bloodstained clothes. Otherwise, I wouldn’t avoid a reprimand from
mom.
The energy rushed to the last three hundred and fifth node,
colliding at the intersection of meridians with vortices, and crawled
in a thick fog to my head, where it was sucked into a bottomless
hole. Normally, I would have been in a hurry, angry, eager to speed
up the Cycle and draw in more power, but now I knew better. Now I
poured the energy of the First and Second Circles as well as of the
jasper into the node without hurry, counting the breaths to myself.
It was like something suddenly burst in my head. A sharp pain
burned me, as if a blade or a hot piece of iron had been driven into
my forehead, piercing my skull. The rotation of the circles halted
when I let go of the jasper, grabbed my head with my hand, and
squeezed it tightly, as if trying to hold it in place. My right hand
didn’t budge. I removed my left hand from my temple, scratching
myself with the remaining coins, checking if there was a wound on
my forehead. And then the pain subsided, leaving in its place a
world behind a lens of tears. A world that I saw as vividly and clearly
as never before.
The tenth star.
Not believing my eyes, I turned my gaze inward, looking for
the last node, which was in the middle of the forehead and finger-
deep under the skin. Tau-Cha-Kron. The node burned brightly in my
spiritual vision, clearly larger than its neighbors.
I had done it.
It was time to move on.
It was time to cross the border.
 Chapter 1

“W
elcome to the
Second Circle.
Congratulations
on returning to
the ancestral lands.”
The words sounded polite but the tone in which they were
uttered seemed indifferent, even bored, like they were spoken ten
times a day. But the last time the Gates opened from our side was
long ago, during the month of my arrival in Ash. And I watched it all
happen from the third-floor veranda of the Two Circles Inn. Back
then, being so high up, I couldn’t hear the words, but now the bored
tone of the official greeting us pleased me. Heavens willing,
everything would go smoothly.
I bowed.
“Thank you, sir. This is a huge honor for us.”
“The strongest faction in this Circle is the Garoy clan. I’m Lir
Garoy. Do you understand what this means?”
I bent my back even more, so that I saw only the skirt of Lir’s
blue-black robes and his boots.
“That you hail from this powerful clan, sir.”
“And I see that you are a talented Walker. I don’t remember
seeing anyone your age on this path. Usually, they wait a couple
more years before becoming Walkers. The best should join the best,
don’t you think so?”
I glanced up at Lir’s calm face, swallowed, lowered my eyes to
the bridge embroidered with white threads on his chest, and
hesitantly said:
“Sir, I dare not deceive a clan as powerful as yours. I’m not a
talented Walker; I just got lucky and managed to reach the tenth
star ahead of time.”
“Interesting. The last Master ran his throat dry praising himself,
and you... This is the first time I encounter such honesty.”
I felt a rush of heat so hot that I wanted to move to avoid an
imminent blow. I could almost feel the steel slicing through my back.
But I was ready and I didn’t budge, hoping that my face remained
as still as my body, save for the polite smile. Someone as mediocre
as I claimed to be couldn’t possess Combat Meditation.
But I couldn’t help but notice the weight that fell on my
shoulders.
“Sir?!” I croaked, startled.
Instead of answering, Lir waved his hand.
“Kram!”
“Yes, sir?”
“How strong is he?”
Dressed in the same blue-black robes but without embroidery,
Kram jumped up and looked at me. His answer sounded uncertain.
“This is the first time I see something like this, sir. He’s no
more dangerous than someone who just created a focus.”
There were several Decrees hanging over me at this point. The
two that stood out the most were the one that forbade me from
using combat techniques except for the first constellation Blades,
Support, Veil, and healing techniques, and the one that prohibited
me from taking up a sword or a spear. There was no way I could
pose any danger with such restrictions.
 Also, I was very confident in my plan. If they didn’t like
Masters of Decrees in this Circle, then they were likely to treat them
all with reservation. It was unlikely that such important people would
be kept locked up for the day the Gates opened. And even if they
had a Master of their own, there was nothing in my Decrees that
would give me away. I’d excuse myself by saying that I was here to
help an old friend with an illness and that I had no combat training
as I was taught to heal and not to fight. And as soon as I saw a
Master around here, I’d erase the rest of my Decrees. There was a
reason I took my time, carefully writing their contents. Without a
few words, their meaning would change completely to support my
made-up story about a sick friend.
Lir grimaced.
“Tell me how it happened.”
“I came from Hundred Bridges.”
When coming up with my plan, I chose these lands because
the people who lived there had no need to move to the Whispering
Forest through the Order’s domain. They didn’t get along with it, and
the town was way off the beaten path for them. Furthermore, their
lands had their own Gate. There was hardly anyone here who could
catch me in a lie.
“The family head,” I hesitated, as if I didn’t want to give any
names, “took me in as an apprentice to an old healer.” Glancing
sideways at Lir, I continued with fervor: “I served him faithfully! I did
everything I was told, mixed all sorts of—”
Lir’s voice spurred me on.
“Get to the point.”
 “Apologies, sir.” I bowed again, hiding my eyes. “One day, the
head refused to share something with his neighbors, offending
them, and his estate was attacked. I helped the young master
escape, and... I did all I could, but I was the only one who made it
out alive.” I looked up for a moment. “The master died... The lady of
the manor... And the older children, too... I was heartbroken.”
Lir rubbed his forehead.
“Since you’re here, am I to assume that you ran away with the
family’s wealth?”
I pulled my twitching hand from the pouch on my belt.
“They all died, sir. All of them. Every single one of them.”
“And who are these people then?”
“My family. And my friend who gave me some money. I didn’t
have enough to pay for my relatives.”
“Was the family you served poor?”
“They were neither rich nor poor, sir.”
“So there wasn’t a lot to steal, eh?”
“I didn’t steal anything, sir!” I stopped, lowered my gaze, and
muttered hollowly: “I’m not a talent, sir. My teacher always scolded
me. I’m ashamed to admit that I bought more potions than I should
have.”
“So you couldn’t save your master, but you sold all his
treasures?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
Lir took a step toward me and slapped me so hard that I
collapsed at his feet. Aunt Railo and Mara cried out in fright, and I
felt my breath get stuck in my throat. I felt weak and helpless.
Worthless, even. There was no heat of danger, but that didn’t stop
my heart from pounding.
“My clan doesn’t need people like you,” Lir said with contempt,
towering over me. “If you’re hiding something from me, you’d better
pray to the Heavens to show mercy on you because I definitely
won’t.”
Kram stepped closer to Lir, bent lower, and whispered into his
ear.
“Sir, Geor won’t miss the chance to accuse you of misconduct.
Why do you care what kind of dirt the wind blows in from the First
Circle?”
“Because it’ll dirty our home.”
“Sir...”
“Give me the Amulet of Truth.”
Writhing beneath Lir’s feet, I exhaled with relief. The Amulet of
Truth. Even if it was stronger than those with which I tested my plan
in the Ridge, I could deal with it. I was just glad that no Master had
been summoned here. I had already learned how to deceive the
Amulet, turning almost a dozen of Ravius’s into dust.
Fifty breaths later, I was clutching a triangular amulet and
looking at Lir.
“Could you have saved the young master?”
“No.” The amulet warmed up a little in my hand but it didn’t
harm me or crumble like the Order’s did. “The lord of the manor was
always hoarding techniques and calling his children worthless. The
young master’s injuries were too serious for me to help him. I only
knew one simple healing technique at that time.”
“And how many do you know now?”
 “...three.”
“Useless.” Lir breathed out into my face and squeezed my
palm. “And what’s wrong with your hand?”
“I suffered an injury while defending the young master.”
Lir’s lips twitched in a grin.
“If only you managed...” He raised his voice. “Loyalty is the
best virtue a Walker can possess. Shame you have none. My clan
doesn’t need you. Listen up, people! The young master of the Garoy
clan asks all of you who have come here today for a favor. I don’t
want to see any coat of arms on this... individual. Does anyone want
to add anything?”
At first, there were some discordant acknowledgements, but
then a mocking voice cut the wave of compliant “yessirs.”
“And what if we refuse?”
I glanced to the side. A man in a bright white robe spoke up,
an impudent smile on his face.
Lir didn’t even turn around.
“Kram, make sure that our allies know that this boy is a
useless scoundrel from the First Circle.”
I bowed deeply.
“Thank you for your time, sir.”
Lir looked at me once more — a “scoundrel” surrounded by
guards and relatives — paying special attention to our clothes and
belts. I guessed what he was looking for. Mara and I had pouches on
our belts, and Uncle Dee had a Traveler’s Bag hanging behind his
back.
“Give me the pouch,” Lir demanded, holding out his hand.
 I didn’t recall being told that we’d be searched. How many
pouches did I have? The one belonging to the Tarsil Warrior, Feus’s,
a bunch looted from the Mads, Tigers, and the Kirtanos, Arius’s,
Pratius’s, Ugriost’s... Almost everything that was in them, I turned
into money with Iram’s help, adding it to what I had already
collected from the looted pouches, the Order’s camp, and received
for my work from Iral and Ravius. Most of it was used to pay for the
passage through the Gate, but there were many things that I could
not and did not want to sell. The two Flags, for example. No one,
not even Zolak, said that someone would search us. Then again, no
one could tell for sure what would happen next, outside the walls of
the Gate.
“Sir, they’re looking at you,” Kram whispered again.
But Lir didn’t give up, and I handed him the pouch that once
belonged to Lars, the leader of the Mads. A sharp pain pricked my
temples as Lir hid the pouch in his palms. I didn’t see him drip blood
on it, but after a few breaths, his lips curled into a grin.
“He sold everything he managed to steal from his benefactors.”
I didn’t have time to catch the pouch. Thrown by a Master’s
hand, it whistled in the air and hit me in the chest, forcing me to
take a step back. The pouch weighed barely anything, so I couldn’t
help but wonder what Lir’s level of Ascension was. Something told
me that I’d find out in a couple of days.
Right now, my ability to assess someone else’s strength was
barely there. Just like the day I entered the Ridge. Back then, I
lowered my Ascension to such a level that even the gaze of a weak
Warrior could press me to the ground. It wasn’t as bad now but I
didn’t intend to get into a fight. Not to mention that my abilities
were dependent on my strength. It was one thing to hold the
Impaler and stand before Tortus, and a whole other to be bound and
left lying under Pratius’s feet. And now wasn’t the time to take off
those binds.
So far, I was glad that I changed my mind at the last moment
about putting the Flag in the belt pouch. At first, I wanted to play it
safe in case there was a formation or an array in this place that
could detect the specter, or rather, its Flag. But then I reconsidered,
and decided to trust those who said that there was no big difference
between the Flags. After all, even in the Order’s camp, where they
utilized the knowledge of the Ancients, there was nothing to detect
them with. And, as it turned out, I did the right thing.
Just as I wasn’t mistaken with my plan. Perhaps I had listened
to too many of Miriot’s stories, but Ravius had confirmed most of
them in many ways. Almost none of those who went to the Second
Circle informed their family and relatives about their whereabouts. I
had often imagined how they came here, to the Gate. I remembered
myself after crossing Zero’s border. A talented Walker who had
fulfilled his ancestors’ dream and escaped that prison. And so I
decided to act completely the opposite. Were Zero’s Champions
strong? I’d introduce myself as someone who just got lucky. Had
they seen hundreds of fights? I’d become someone who wasn’t even
trusted to grind herbs without supervision. Did they come alone or
with colleagues as strong as them? I came with a family of
weaklings.
This was also why I took Marvit and Legi with me. Sort of. I
couldn’t hope that two Temperers would last long in Ash without
money and help. Especially since Miriot was there. Ash was kind only
to those who had power. Slums were huddled against the western
wall of the Fortress, inhabited entirely by Temperers who didn’t find
a place inside the walls. I had no doubt that, sooner or later, the two
of them would end up there. And that was if they were lucky.
No. I couldn’t allow such a fate for them, no matter how
annoying Marvit was. So I took them with me, hoping that, in the
Second Circle, the heavenly energy would grant them a few years of
life. However, so far, I hadn’t noticed the concentration of energy
here to be any higher than in the First. There was clearly more of it,
but there was no difference in its quality. It was nothing like the
transition from Zero to the First. There was more of it than in Ash on
the other side, much more than in the Ridge, but... But it didn’t
compare with what I felt at the foothill of the Brothers, and even
more so with Mirage. So far, it was the most like the middle of the
road between the swamp and the Order’s camp.
Then again, it wasn’t true that there were weaklings with me,
either. Zotar was handled separately, as he was the one who paid for
the transfer of my relatives. Although I doubted that a seventh-star
Warrior would attract much attention.
Kram slipped through the guards, handed me a black ball, and
ordered dryly:
“Put your hand on it.”
 Chapter 2

I
knew what was in front of
me. The very reason why
the Trazados declined my
offer and why Zolak stayed
in the First Circle. The secret of the black jade belonged to the Garoy
family.
I licked my lips.
“Sir, what is that?”
“Don’t worry. The jade will only compare your spiritual power
with the criminals whose imprints are placed inside.”
I nodded timidly. The jade sphere was unavoidable for anyone
who came to the Second Circle. Inhaling, I touched the cold, smooth
surface. For a few breaths, I felt strange, as if the stone was sucking
the energy out of my focus, moving it along the meridians against
my will. But as soon as it touched the sphere, it halted.
“You pass,” Kram said dryly. “Next.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Kram grimaced and turned away. Perhaps I was wrong to
deceive him like I did Lir, but I had made my choice. Loyalty might
be a Walker’s best virtue, but even it had its limits. I wondered
where Lir’s were. How loyal was he to his clan?
“What shall we call your companions?”
And although I knew what he was referring to from Zolak’s and
Ravius’s explanations, I bent my disobedient back in a bow again. It
was better to feign ignorance.
“Pardon me, sir?”
 Kram looked at me and winced.
“You’re the only Master in this group. You paid for all these
people’s passage, so it’s your call how they’ll be taxed. As family,
servants, or Freewalkers. That is, of course, unless they have a
record.”
I had no doubts that they had the Trazado family’s records.
They entered the First Circle through Ash, after all. The particular
Gate didn’t matter as the Garoy clan owned the black jade. This
meant that Zolak’s record was etched into the inky stone forever. But
Zotar was born in the First Circle.
Something pricked me under the shoulder blade, prompting
me to look around. Zotar was squinting in my direction, as if afraid
that I’d break my promise. Foolish boy.
I moved my finger, tracing a circle.
“They are my family. And he,” I pointed at my new companion,
“is a Freewalker.”
Everyone took turns coming up to the sphere and putting their
hand on it. Mom had to force Marvit and Legi to do it. Finally, Kram
waved, allowing us to pass. I walked ahead, looking around. The
Gate’s walls felt like they had been built by the same hand — the
same stone all around, the same stairs, and canopies spread over
seated Warriors, waiting at the tables for those who’d cross the
border.
I shook my head. I had to get rid of the notion that Warriors
were the pinnacle of Ascension. There were Masters around me.
Even if the weakest of them was the same as me level-wise — a
beginner with one star — they could still be stronger than I was. It
was a pity that I couldn’t assess their strength correctly due to the
self-imposed Decrees, but there was nothing I could do about it
now. For me, they were unfathomable lakes of muddy water, same
as the Warriors on the other side of the border. No matter how hard
I looked, I couldn’t see the bottom. And there was no big difference
in how much energy there was in those pools — it was enough for
any helpless fool to drown.
I walked past the Masters. In the Order, I had grown used to
the fact that I could immediately tell who stood before me by the
color of their robes, but that wasn’t the case here. Lir was wearing
black with blue patterns and inserts, the same shade that could be
found on Kram, who called the latter his master. The only difference
between them was the embroidery on their chests. Everyone else
was dressed in robes of different colors and patterns. Only two other
groups, clearly belonging to the same factions, wore matching
colors. However, I had no clue what those hues were meant to
represent. Those weren’t ranks, but they weren’t faction colors
either, because identically dressed people sometimes stood too far
apart from each other to be regarded as acquaintances.
So far, I had confidently identified only guards, as they were all
dressed in the same armor. Most of them came over and surrounded
us after we passed through the Gate, assembling on the walls and at
the exit. And when Lir cleared the passage for us, all those without
armor lined up, creating a corridor along which we needed to
proceed to the gate. The further away from the border we got, the
better, I thought to myself, trying to catch the subtleties that
differentiated these people. Was it wealth? I didn’t know much about
it, my whole experience being limited to buying dresses for mom
and Leila in Zero, clothes for a young gentleman when I had money
in the Ridge, and a week of pretending to be a Trustee of the Order.
But I thought I got the gist of it. The cut of their robes seemed
uniform, as did their decoration, and the quality of the scabbards
dangling from their belts. Once more, I felt frustrated that I couldn’t
accurately determine their strength, but I assumed that members of
the stronger factions stood near the Gate while the weaker ones
were further away. There were seven or eight of them, at best.
Some of them didn’t even look at me. A few smiled with
contempt in response to my bows, which I made whenever I
approached another group of people. But no one spoke up.
When I was coming up with this plan, I expected that the
Second’s strongest faction would reject me. It’d be easier to hide my
talent among the weaker ones in case I needed to run away from
them. I didn’t want to repeat what Tortus and the founder of the
Wolves had gone through. But my plan seemed to have worked out,
and now no one wanted to do anything with me. Even the man in
white robes who had tried to oppose Lir a couple of breaths ago
seemed to have given up.
The last person I passed by, an older man in gray clothes inlaid
with metal, sighed wearily at our sight.
“Ah, the joy of sorting out trash. Domar, to work.”
Pausing, he raised his arm over his shoulder and spread his
fingers. A man sitting in the shadow of the gate immediately stood
up.
“Yes, uncle.”
I held back a sigh. And here I thought that the impossible
would happen and that I’d leave this place without fuss. Who
decided to go against the strongest faction of this Circle and why
were they standing at the very end of the line?
I looked at the man coming toward us. Despite referring to his
superior as his uncle, the two seemed to be the same age. Just like
all the other guards, Domar wore ordinary armor, which led me to
believe that he referred to his companion by seniority, as the
younger Artels addressed their elders.
“Listen carefully. I won’t repeat myself. Our elder is already
showing you mercy, although he could just throw you into the city
and then out of it.” After a short pause, he asked with suspicion:
“Why are those two without memory?”
I was surprised that he asked that. Lir and Kram didn’t care
about my group’s Temperers. This time, I spoke the truth.
“They didn’t want to come with us. We don’t get along all that
well.”
“Hmm.” Domar gave us another careful look. I couldn’t tell
what he was trying to discern from our faces. “You are in the domain
of the Ringing Creek faction, the head of which is the Saul family.
And since all the other factions have abandoned you, it’s our duty to
tell you at least a little bit about the lands into which you’ll soon step
foot. The capital of our family’s territory is the city of Brocade
Heaven.” Noticing my confused look, he explained: “We’re famous
for our brocade and fine textile. The Garoy family buys only from us.
But the only thing you should know is that the city you’re currently
in is called Ash Tree.”
I nodded. It was no surprise that the city divided into two parts
was named by the stronger faction. I knew that this Ash Tree was as
big as the Ash Tree of the First Circle but that it had much fewer
people in it. I knew this because I went up to the inn’s roof, having
paid a lot for this service, and peered through the murky boundaries
of the defensive formation for a long, long time.
Domar looked at us once more, nodded, and waved his hand.
“Follow me.”
 Chapter 3

T
he first thing I did when
we were outside the
gate was remove Leila’s
restrictions. She might
have been wearing a Protection Amulet, but I’d be much calmer if I
saw her as giddy and beaming as before. Unfortunately, it was still
too early to remove my Decrees, with a guard walking by my side.
Perhaps I’d have to wear them for a few more days.
Domar walked in front while the other guards trailed behind
us. Our guide rarely looked back but he didn’t stop talking. Ash was
a very small town, and most of its inhabitants were guards of the
Ringing Creek faction. The smaller factions were made of immigrants
from the First Circle. The city lived on killing Beasts and gathering
heavenly herbs. Or rather, it used to live like that. Now barely a
tenth of its former populace remained.
There was a stupid smile on my face as I listened to Domar
talk. All this reminded me of what happened after my graduation,
when I went with Plav to work on his farm: vaguely familiar streets
all around, a new life ahead, and someone telling me how I should
live it. But I was still missing some information.
“Sir, what’s the lowest rank of the Masters that serve you?
Where am I among your people?”
“What?” Domar frowned, looming over me. “Why would Uncle
Aymar go against Lir and risk taking you into the family?”
My heart started pounding, this time with joy, and I took a
deep breath to calm it down. Things turned out much better than I
hoped. No faction needed me. If anyone else had been in Lir’s place,
say Tortus or Ravius, my story would’ve stirred me away only from
their factions. But Lir’s egoism made everyone detest me. Good.
Thanks to him, I was now a free man with only a handful of jasper
of debt. Well, more than a handful. The old man in gray robes had
clearly raised the price — that was what the gesture meant. But I
had a big family, so it was silly of me to think that I’d get by with
paying only two hundred coins, as both Sheleost and Zolak said.
Two hundred — or rather, five hundred now, thanks to
someone’s greed — wasn’t much. I had eighteen in the pouch at the
moment. For now, they’d order me to help treat those who returned
to the city from the forests. But in a month or two, once I learned
where I could go, I’d hunt on my own and make more money.
We reached the estate soon enough. The gate creaked behind
us and I glanced over my shoulder with displeasure. A bunch of
servants were pushing it close. Exhausted, they seemed overworked.
I had never seen servants like that in any of the Ridge’s estates.
I froze, finally realizing what I was looking at. The gates, which
were unlocked, were being pushed open by four... Warriors?
Masters? There were fifteen of them in total in the yard. Five more
in the gazebos ahead to the right and left of the path. If needed,
they’d be at the gates within a breath.
What the hell was going on?
I turned around.
“Sir?”
Hands clasped behind his back, Domar looked at me. There
were subtle changes on his face, as if he was a different person from
the one who led us down the street.
 “You asked where you’d be among our people.”
“I did, yes. But you said that your faction doesn’t need me.”
“The family doesn’t need you, because only those with a rank
can enter it.”
I cursed myself. How could I forget that there was no Order
here? I was so happy that I was not needed that I forgot the basics.
But Domar didn’t seem to care about my experience in the First
Circle.
“You are worthless trash, the kind of which the family needs to
run its errands. You’ll serve us for five years in exchange for shelter,
food, protection—”
“Hold on!”
Domar tilted his head to the side, reminding me of a bird.
“Does that not suit you?”
“Why would I become your servant?”
My shoulder burned with heat, and then the shaft of a spear
hit me. I stood up but then they bashed me in the legs and I fell to
my knees. Someone grabbed me by my hair, jerked my head back,
and barked in my ear.
“How dare you talk to him like that?!”
The voice drowned out mom’s and Rat’s screams, and the
strike made the world spin and darken. I clenched my fists, wishing I
had a knife in my hand. To grab its blade and let the pain wash away
the dizziness. My own Decrees punished me for trying to raise my
hand and put a Spike into the throat of the guard holding me,
hurting me more.
“I mustn’t... use... techniques...” I reminded myself.
 Slowly, I came to my senses, calmed down, and glanced to the
side. The guard holding me didn’t think to let go of my hair. There
were twenty-five people of unknown strength against one of me. I
would have removed all the Decrees from myself by now if there
were fewer guards in the courtyard... and if my family wasn’t here
with me. Mom and Leila could have time to run away if it came to it,
but the rest... I had made that mistake once already. Never again.
Damn Sheleost. What kind of a servant did they want me to be? Was
I making another stupid mistake?
The guard gripped my hair even harder.
“Well?! Cat got your tongue, boy?!”
“I’m... sorry, sir,” I squeezed through clenched teeth.
Domar nodded slowly.
“You’re forgiven. Do you know why you have to become our
servant?”
“No, sir.”
“Because you’ve been a servant your whole life.” I swore again.
My stupid story was to blame. “You’re weak and insignificant. You
call us elders and sirs even though you’re a tenth star and my
guards aren’t that strong.”
I jerked my head up, ignoring the pain. Were they Warriors
after all? It couldn’t be. Was he talking about...?
“You call me your elder because I’m stronger.”
“Yes, you command the guards because of your status and
power,” I said, feeling like the skin was about to be torn off my head,
“sir.”
“They’re just extra hands. I could do without them. I’m a real
Master, after all. Not a fake, like you. You’re just a worthless servant
to whom your master entrusted the secret of Multiplication.” Domar
titled his head a little more. “Do you know what I see when I look at
you and your family?”
“No, sir.”
“Keep talking.” I almost sneered. “What are you going to do to
keep me here, I wonder? Make me sign a contract? Funny. Sure, I’ll
serve you for a little bit, and then I’ll run away, taking my family with
me.”
I could run away tomorrow if I didn’t bring so many people
with me. I cursed myself and my stupid plan, because of which I
had to act like a weakling accompanied by a bunch of Temperers
who needed to be taken care of. Yes, the strongest factions didn’t
need me but I didn’t expect that this would lead to me becoming a
servant. I wished I had limited myself to mom and Leila. If we were
careful, the three of us could go anywhere along the edge of the
forest. The first strong Beast we came across would become Leila’s
guardian. But with the rest of them... With the rest of them, I
wouldn’t dare venture further than Ash’s walls.
“Fine, Domar, I’ll let you humiliate me for a little while...”
The Decrees of the first two guards were already under my
influence. All I had to do was erase them and write my name. But
the third one was showing some resistance — the same guy that
was holding me by the hair. He probably had an amulet... The
bastard.
I finally composed myself. Why was I in a rush to do anything?
Why did I need to decide everything here and now? The Sauls didn’t
know what kind of servant they were getting. There were few people
as vindictive as I was.
 Domar laughed.
“I can see in your eyes that you understood everything and
made peace with it. I see weaklings before me. Surprisingly, your
mother is almost more dangerous than you are. A shame. Do you
think I don’t know what they call those who have reached the tenth
star and learned Multiplication? Masters of Spiritual Power. Almost.
Funny, don’t you think? You don’t have enough spirit in you to kill a
mouse.”
I looked down.
“Keep laughing. Laugh. Laugh to your heart’s content. I hope
you’ll be held responsible for the runaway servants.”
“The contract is here. A rather special one. And it comes with a
bonus, too.”
He removed a pouch from his belt. It was Uncle Dee’s Bag. I
didn’t see Mara, her head was turned in the other direction, but I
was willing to bet that she had been relieved of her possessions as
well. They were probably expecting to find something nice in her
Bag. How many things could two people from Zero have? It’d be
funny if there were another set of blacksmithing tools in one of
them. They could look all they wanted, but they wouldn’t find our
family’s treasure. Forced to kneel, I could feel the pressure on my
shin from the pouch sewn to my pant leg.
Now there were two guards standing near me. The second had
his sword against my throat. I pushed as much as I could, hoping
that I’d manage to turn my head through the pain, but all I
managed was to squint and curse under my breath.
Like hell I’d do what they wanted.
 Chapter 4

I
no longer felt the sharp
metal, only the warm
trickle of blood running
down my neck. My only
regret was that I couldn’t see the culprits. No matter. Once they let
me go, I’d make sure to remember them well.
My family was sent to the side, to one of the gazebos. The
guard grabbed Zotar’s bag and tore it off with a laugh.
The scene made me clench my teeth. I got carried away in
showing my worthlessness. Should I remove my Decrees, I
wondered, and explain that I was only pretending? Show that I had
deceived all the Inspectors and the Amulet of Truth? That’d be
something. Especially once I suddenly turned from a weakling into a
dangerous opponent, and especially now that I knew how the Sauls
greeted the guests inside the walls of their estate. Near the Gate, I
was unworthy of even having my Bag checked, and Domar acted
friendly on the empty streets. They were pretending to be decent
folk, the scum. It’d almost be more merciful to kill them than to let
everyone know how hospitable they were.
“Boy, if you think I’ll hesitate, you’re wrong. Try that again and
I’ll cut your throat open.”
The words made me freeze. I didn’t think about it even when
the blood started flowing. What kind of steel was this blade made of
if it could cut my tempered body so easily? What else could these
guards surprise me with? They might not be Masters, but we were in
the Second Circle, after all.
 Domar interrupted my train of thought and the guard
obligingly turned my head so that I could see him. He waved the
scroll in front of me, then lowered it, putting it in my left hand.
“Send your energy into it.”
“I don’t see what it says.”
The heat of someone’s breath touched my ear.
“What do you care what it says, you scum? Servants can’t
read. Do what you’re told.”
“I can read.”
Domar tilted his head to the side again, his ear almost
touching his shoulder, and grinned.
“Let him read it.”
The blade stopped digging into my neck, and the guard’s hand
turned my head completely. I saw the scroll. Servants who had
reached the tenth star must’ve been expensive if their contracts
were being held in scrolls with bases made of polished green stone.
Pulling the edge, I unfolded the smooth fabric.

Soul Contract
I swear to Domar Saul to serve the Saul family for five
years.
I swear to be loyal and faithful to the Saul family.
I swear not to conspire against the Saul family.
I swear not to tell strangers anything about the Saul
family that they do not already know.
I swear to take care of the Saul family’s property as if it
were my own and to guard it with my life.
I swear to follow all the orders that I am given.
 I swear not to talk about the contract, for it is
forbidden.
I swear not to run away...

I released the edge, letting the scroll roll down, averting my

eyes from my fate.
“Sounds more like slavery than servitude. A little more and
you’ll be ordering me around like the cultists order their specters.”
“You’re not wrong,” Domar agreed. “But it’s only for five years.
Do you really want to refuse?”
“Of course I want to. But I assume this will not be without
consequence, will it?”
“Of course not. Should you refuse, I won’t prevent my guards
from unsheathing their swords.”
“I understand. But what about my family? Will they suffer the
same fate?”
“Obviously. But they’ll have to serve for only two years. You’re
a Master, aren’t you? You get special treatment.”
“You’re right.” I smiled at the contract. “They’re not Masters.”
I sent my energy into the scroll. The base turned black first,
then the fabric, and the black lines disappeared, merging with the
canvas. The sword was removed from my neck for a breath to touch
the fabric. The crimson stain started fading after a moment. At the
same time, my focus began to empty. The scroll seemed to drink
energy out of me, sucking it into itself. And no matter how hard I
tried, I couldn’t let go of it: the stone appeared to stick to my hands.
Within five breaths, I could see the bottom of my focus. The
meridians burned with pain, and while the blood retreated from my
face, the crimson inscriptions on the fabric glowed brightly. They
flashed and then disappeared along with the scroll, shrinking into a
ray of light that struck me above the empty focus, almost into my
heart, leaving an unpleasant feeling of something alien in my body.
And then something cold touched my neck. I jerked, forgetting
about the sword, grabbed the chain, and pulled at it. But I failed to
rip it off. A moment later, I was kicked in the back. Sword hilts and
boots swung in tandem to punish me for my insolence.
“That’s enough.”
The guards took a step back. For a moment, I stared at Domar
and his annoyingly calm face, and then I sent my spirit at him with
the intent of making him squirm. But nothing happened. Time after
time, I imagined filling his Decrees with my spirit, but I couldn’t even
touch them. I didn’t feel them. After a breath, I turned to the guard
holding the sword at my throat. His Decrees, which I could feel and
intended to break, also didn’t yield under my efforts. Slowly realizing
what had happened, I tried to touch those Decrees that I had
already made my own... but nothing happened either. As my heart
began to sink, I touched the ones that I had placed upon myself.
Nothing.
It was like I was a child who had never heard of Decrees.
“You...!”
Domar nodded, his head bobbing like a chicken’s.
“Good. Good. You might have betrayed your previous master,
but there’s something about you that I like. You’re smart.”
A guard snorted behind him.
“Kirt would beg to differ.”
 Kirt. I burned that name into my memory, right under Domar’s.
The man in question was standing three steps away from me,
staring at me with a barely noticeable smile. His head was also tilted
to the side. How many of those who came to the Second had been
forced to sign these contracts? Did the same fate befall the founder
of the Wolves? Did he also end up serving the Sauls? And if it was
forbidden to talk about the contract, did that mean that this whole
thing was completely illegal? What kind of fucked up view of
hospitality did these people have?
Damn Zolak!
No. It wasn’t his fault. He was exiled decades ago through
another Gate. I couldn’t blame Ravius either, because there wasn’t a
mention of something like this even in Ash Tree, in his half of the
First Circle. But I could blame Sheleost. The old sage had lived in the
Second Circle and arrived in the Ridge quite recently through Ash.
Why didn’t he warn me through one of his riddles? Why did he only
tell stories about a young Walker who traveled the new lands with
ease and earned two hundred coins to pay the tax? I should have
used my talents. I should have placed a Truth Decree on Sheleost.
But I was too worried that it would kill him if it somehow went
against what was covered by the tricolor Decree.
Damn it!
Domar laughed.
“You’re looking at his back, Kirt, and I’m looking at his face. I
see he understands very well what all this means. For a moment, he
was angry, and then the cold truth humbled him. He’s smart and
he’ll be a great servant.” Domar paused and smiled. “He put up quite
the show at the Gate, didn’t he? Told everyone what they wanted to
hear. About a servant who faithfully defended his master. At the cost
of his health, and maybe his life. You’ll do the same for me now,
won’t you? You’ll be a faithful servant once more, yes?”
“My last master was perhaps unfair but he earned my loyalty.
And you—”
I was pulled by the “collar.” All I could do was clench my teeth.
“Looks like I’ve given you too much credit. A smart person
would understand that impertinence is inappropriate. As your
master, I, Domar Saul, command you to tell me the truth.”
I grabbed the thin chain around my neck again only to let go
after a few moments of fruitless struggle. I’d achieve nothing trying
to remove it here, in front of everyone. My stubbornness could lead
to nothing good. But the arrogance in his voice pissed me off to no
end! Did the contract even allow him to command me to do
something like that? I took a breath under his attentive gaze, pulled
on the forgotten mask of obedience, and lowered my gaze to the
ground. This wasn’t what I expected this trip to be. Once again,
there was too much at stake. Once again... I didn’t want to pretend
to be weak anymore.
“What’s your name?”
“Legard.”
“Servant Legard, will you protect the Saul family at the cost of
your life?”
It had been too long since I had last been punished by a
contract. It had happened only once: in the barn on Plav’s farm
when I tried to transfer my knowledge of the Blades onto paper.
What did I experience then? A headache? Could this be any worse
than that?
 I was silent for a moment. And then another. And when I felt
no pain, I almost grinned with joy. However, at the last moment, I
grimaced and grabbed my head with both hands.
“I... I will,” I growled.
After holding my head a little longer, I risked a glance at
Domar. Did I manage to make him think I was really hurting? I bet
he didn’t expect this.
Domar smiled.
“You see, Kirt? He’ll be a good servant.”
I remained silent, looking at the hewn stones under my feet.
“Keep laughing. Even if your collar doesn’t allow me to
manipulate Decrees, there’s one among my own that allows me to
lie even if exposed to an Amulet of Truth. I care about your order as
much as I cared about those Amulets.”
I couldn’t see what was going on with the Decrees and the
contract over my head, but I was more than certain that they were
blazing with symbols right about now.
“But you don’t see it, do you? And you won’t see it until it’s too
late.”
“I order you to attack the guard on the left.”
I sat up, looked at Domar, and took a breath, trying to figure
out what he was aiming to achieve, but this time nothing protected
me from the terms of the contract. It was as if a pin was driven into
the top of my head, pierced through my skull, sank into my chest,
touched the strange, alien ball within, and flared up, burning me out
from the inside. I had no choice. The guard was only a step away
but my body refused to obey me. I couldn’t even get up from my
knees, only fall helplessly on my face. All I managed to do was
throw my hand in his direction while the fire blazed inside me. I
pulled myself up, writhing on the rocks, and tried to throw my other
hand forward. I couldn’t die here, next to mom and Leila. Not while
my whole family was watching. I had to survive. I struggled a bit
more, stopping only when Domar’s voice rang out.
“Enough. I’m satisfied.”
I lay with my head on the cold stone, letting it soak up the
remnants of pain as I gathered my thoughts into one whole. Domar
had to die. I didn’t know what the locals were used to here but I
was having none of it. Perhaps such shows of humiliation were a
norm in this place. Perhaps after five years of servitude, the servants
parted with smiles, saying how sad they were to leave. Perhaps, but
I doubted it. The only thing I was certain of was that the Sauls and I
were enemies. The moment I was free from the collar and the
contract, I’d kill them all. Ravius said that adding blood and energy
to a contract seemed to add to your Ascension, as such a contract
had one or two stars more than the one who signed it with their
blood, combining the strength of both parties. And even if the worst
had happened — even if my focus was now empty and I was
reduced to three miserable stars — I was in the Second Circle. How
long would it take me to gain more stars? A year? I could wait that
long.
“Get up. Or should I command you?”
My hands were shaking, making me grimace with anger. I was
a weakling. One punishment and I was already falling apart. Where
was that perfect tempering everyone spoke of? Was I not forged in
the hot sands of the Wasteland under constant humiliation and pain?
 But I looked at the bastard before me with a slight ingratiating
smile.
“Sir?”
“That’s better.” Domar waved his hand. “See that guard over
there? He has the contracts. Bring them over.”
I forced myself to walk, forced myself to raise my hands, and
forced myself to hand Domar the contracts signed by my family. Did
he think I was so compliant because I was afraid of pain? He
couldn’t have been more wrong. I was burning with self-loathing. I
was so calm only because I knew how he would die.
 Chapter 5

“W
ell?”
A withered, bearded old man was sitting in
an open gazebo. Behind him, the red roof of a
building rose from the greenery of the garden. I
assumed it was the Saul residence. No wonder we were led through
the gate to the second part of the estate, where the owners and
their servants usually resided.
The guards lined us up before the old man, who, having given
us a thoughtful glance, expressed his dissatisfaction aloud.
“So this is what my son considers a profit? A boy with empty
stars?”
“Father.”
The guards parted, letting Domar pass. In a few steps, he was
inside the gazebo and next to the old man. Throwing the pouches on
the table in front of him, he bent over to his ear. I had made myself
useless in combat but my Ascension level was still with me. It was a
shame that I could hear only bits and pieces of their conversation. I
wished I knew what they were saying about me.
“Even... empty... still stars... Haven’t stopped... Take a look...
Talent...”
“He,” the old man’s gesture left no doubt as to whom he was
referencing, “burned all his meridians?”
“What difference does it make?”
“Does it not?”
“Even if... How many years... Yourself? I... a chance... took it...
Do you... wrong?”
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an unanswerable argument against him. I can scarcely, however, at
this moment forget how disconcerted I felt when he replied, “That is
nothing: I certainly never heard of Christians eating dead horse-
flesh, but I know they eat the flesh of swine, and God knows that is
worse!” “Grant me patience!” exclaimed I to myself; “this is almost
too much to bear, and to be silent.”
I endeavoured, by means of one of the Mandara people, to ask
some questions of some of these reputed Christians, but my
attempts were fruitless; they would hold no intercourse with any one;
and, on gaining permission, carried off the carcass of the horse to
the mountains, where, by the fires which blazed during the night, and
the yells that reached our ears, they no doubt held their savage and
brutal feast.
April 24.—The sultan of Mandara had given no intimation
whatever of his intentions with regard to Boo-Khaloom’s destination,
and in consequence the impatience and discontent of the latter were
extreme. Offerings poured in, from all the Kerdy nations; and the
sultan excused himself to Boo-Khaloom for the delay, on account of
the extreme tractability of the people around him, who, he said, were
becoming Musselmans without force. Again Musgow was
mentioned; adding, that the warlike arm of the Arabs, bearing the
sword of the Prophet, might turn their hearts. This hypocrisy,
however, Boo-Khaloom inveighed against most loudly to me,
declaring that the conversion of the Kerdy people would lose him
(the sultan) thousands of slaves, as their constant wars with each
other afford them the means of supplying him abundantly.
My own patience, also, this morning underwent a severe trial. I
applied to Barca Gana, by dawn of day, for one of his men to
accompany me to the mountains; and after some conversation a
chief was sent with me to the house of the suggamah (chief of the
town), who sent me to another, and he begged I might be taken to a
third. They all asked me a hundred questions, which was natural
enough; begged powder—looked at my gun—snapped the lock so
often, that I feared they would break it, exclaiming, “Y-e-o-o-o!
wonderful! wonderful!” when the fire came. At last, however, when I
once got it in my hand, I loaded both the barrels, and after that I
could not induce one of them to put their hands within five yards of it.
The last great man whose house I was taken to cunningly begged
me to fire, calling his slaves to stand round him while I complied with
his request: immediately after he asked for the gun, and carried it
into an inner court. I was kept full half an hour waiting; when about
ten slaves rushed out, gave me the gun, and told the guide to carry
me to the palace. I complained that they had stolen both my flints.
Every body came to look—crowded round me, exclaiming, “Y-e-o-o-
o!” and this was all the redress I could obtain. I soon after found out
that the flints were not my only loss; my pocket handkerchief also,
which several had petitioned for without success, had been stolen.
Arrived at the palace, I was desired to wait in the skiffa. I began to
walk about, but was told that was not allowed, that I must sit down
on the ground: after waiting nearly an hour, during which time I was
desirous more than once to return, but was told by my guide that it
was impossible until the sultan gave orders, I was conducted into the
presence of the chief eunuch; he desired me to stop within about
twelve yards of him, and then said, “The sultan could not imagine
what I wanted at the hills? Did I wish to catch the Kerdies alone?—
that I had better buy them,—he would sell me as many as I pleased.”
He then made some remark, which was not interpreted, and which
created a loud laugh in all the bystanders: the joke was evidently at
my expense, although I was not aware of its point. I assured him,
“that I did not wish to go at all to the hills if the sultan had the
slightest objection, that it was purely curiosity, and that as to catching
Kerdies, I would not take them if given to me.” This put us all to
rights; I gave him some powder, and he was as civil as he could be
to such a kafir as myself.
Six men, armed with large clubs and short daggers, were now
desired to go with me. The sultan’s anxiety for my safety, the eunuch
assured me, was the only reason I had found any difficulty. What
directions these, my satellites, had received, I know not, but they
watched me so closely, appeared so jealous of every stone I picked
up, that I did not venture to sketch the shape of a single hill. It was
now nearly mid-day, and we proceeded about three quarters of a
mile along the valley, which is on the south-west side of the town,
and advanced a little into two of the chasms, which appear in the
southernmost ridge of the chain. In one of these we found a beautiful
stream of water, bubbling from a bed of glittering sand, under two
immense blocks of granite, which seemed to form a rude arch over
the spot. Several naked people, chiefly women and girls, ran from
the place as we approached, and scrambled up the side of the
mountain with the most monkey-like agility. I was abundantly
assured that this chain of mountains, the highest parts of which, in
the neighbourhood of Mandara, do not exceed two thousand five
hundred feet, extends nearly south for more than two months’
journey—how much beyond that they know not. The only
communication, in this direction, is by means of a few venturesome
freed slaves, who penetrate into these countries with beads and
tobes, which are eagerly bought up, as well as turkadies from
Soudan, and slaves and skins are given in exchange. The nations
are very numerous; generally paint, and stain their bodies of different
colours, and live in common, without any regard to relationship.
Large lakes are frequently met with, plentifully supplied with fish.
Mangoes, wild figs, and ground nuts, are found in the valleys. It does
not appear that any other metal besides iron, which is abundant, has
been discovered in these hills: near Karowa, to the south-west of
Mandara, it is most plentiful.
The sound of the sultan’s trumpets, now heard at a distance,
created a strong sensation amongst my attendants; they all declared
we must return instantly; and when I very gently attempted to
remonstrate a little, one of them took hold of the reins of my horse
without any ceremony, turned him round, and led him on, while all
the rest followed towards the town; of course I very quietly
submitted, wondering what was the cause of alarm: it was, however,
nothing but that the Sultan was giving audience, and these
gentlemen of the chamber did not choose to be absent. They left me
as soon as we approached the houses, and I was then instantly
surrounded by at least a hundred others, who were so anxious to put
their hands into, and examine, every thing about me, that I put spurs
to my horse, and made the best of my way to the camp. I was
exceedingly fatigued with my morning’s work, and crept into my tent,
where I endured three hours of misery from a degree of excessive
heat, surpassing all I could have supposed mankind were born to
suffer here below.
Barca Gana sent to me soon after, and I found him preparing to
receive one of the chief eunuchs of the sultan in his outward tent; his
people all sitting round him on the sand, with their backs towards
their chief, and eyes inclined downwards. Nothing can be more
solemn than these interviews; not an eye is raised, or a smile seen,
or a word spoken, beyond “Long life to you! A happy old age!
Blessing! Blessing! May you trample on your enemies! Please God!
Please God!” then the fatah, which is seldom or never omitted. The
great man first inquired, “why I went to the hills; and what I wanted
with the stones I had picked up, and put in a bag which I carried near
my saddle?” Barca Gana applied to me for information, and the bag
was sent for. My specimens were not more than fifteen in number,
and the eunuch, laying his hand on two pieces of fine grained
granite, and some quartz, asked, “how many dollars they would bring
in my country?” I smiled, and told him, “Not one: that I had no object
in taking them beyond curiosity—that we had as much in England as
would cover his whole country, and that I was pleased to find similar
natural productions here. Assure the sultan,” added I, to Barca
Gana, “that to take any thing from any of the inhabitants of these
countries is not the wish of the English king: the sheikh knows our
intentions, which are rather to make them acquainted with European
produce; and if useful to them, send more into their country.” “True,
true!” said Barca Gana: “what have you brought for the sultan?”—
and here I was again in a dilemma. I had only one small looking-
glass of my own; neither knives, scissors, nor beads, although we
had cases of them at Bornou. Something, however, was necessary
to be given; I therefore sent for my trunk, and gave the sultan two
French red imitation shawls, which I had bought for my own use, my
own razor, and a pair of scissors; while for himself the eunuch took
my two remaining pocket-handkerchiefs, and a coloured muslin one,
with which he appeared to be highly delighted.
 From a Sketch by Major Denham. Engraved by E. Finden.

MANDARA MUSICIANS.
Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London.

April 25.—The news of the presents I had produced brought early

this morning fifteen of the sultan’s sons, with double the number of
followers, to my tent: they all wanted gunpowder, knives, and
scissors; I had however neither one nor the other to give them. Two
or three of the oldest of the princes got a French silk handkerchief
each, and one a pair of cotton socks, and, of course, the others went
away sadly discontented. I this morning ventured to make two
attempts at sketching, but my apparatus and myself were carried off
without ceremony to the sultan. My pencils marking without ink,
created great astonishment, and the facility with which its traces
were effaced by India rubber seemed still more astonishing. My old
antagonist, Malem Chadily, was there, and affected to treat me with
great complaisance: he talked a great deal about me and my
country, which made his hearers repeatedly cry out, “Y-e-o-o-o!” but
what the purport of his observations were I could not make out. I
endeavoured, however, to forget all his former rudeness, took every
thing in good part, and appeared quite upon as good terms with him
as he evidently wished to appear to be with me. Several words were
written both by him and the others, which the rubber left no remains
of; at length the fighi wrote Bismillah arachmani aracheme (in the
name of the great and most merciful God), in large Koran characters;
he made so deep an impression on the paper, that, after using the
Indian rubber, the words still appeared legible: “This will not quite
disappear,” said I. “No, no!” exclaimed the fighi, exulting; “they are
the words of God, delivered to our Prophet! I defy you to erase
them!” “Probably so,” said I; “then it will be in vain to try.” He showed
the paper to the sultan, and then around him, with great satisfaction;
they all exclaimed, “Y-e-o-o-o! La illah el Allah! Mohammed rassoul
Allah!”—cast looks at me expressive of mingled pity and contempt,
and I was well pleased when allowed to take my departure.
The whole of this scene was repeated to Barca Gana in his tent in
the evening, and they all exclaimed “Wonderful! Wonderful!” and as I
did not contradict any part of his account, the fighi thus addressed
me: “Rais, you have seen a miracle! I will show you hundreds,
performed alone by the words of the wonderful book! You have a
book also, you say, but it must be false.—Why? Because it says
nothing of Saidna Mohammed, that is enough.—Shed! Shed! turn!
turn! say ‘God is God, and Mohammed is his prophet.’ Sully (wash),
and become clean, and paradise is open to you: without this, what
can save you from eternal fire? Nothing!—Oh! I shall see you while
sitting in the third heaven, in the midst of the flames, crying out to
your friend Barca Gana and myself, ‘Malem, saherbi! (friend), give
me a drink or a drop of water!’ but the gulf will be between us, and
then it will be too late.” The Malem’s tears flowed in abundance
during this harangue, and every body appeared affected by his
eloquence.
I felt myself, at this period, extremely uncomfortable; and Barca
Gana, who saw my distress, called me into the inner tent, where
nobody accompanied him, except by invitation. “The fighi,” said he,
“is a rajal alem (clever man).” “Very likely,” said I; “but he surely
might leave me to my own belief, as I leave him to his.” “Staffer
Allah!” (God forbid!) said he. “Do not compare them.” “I do not,” said
I, “God knows; but you, Kashella, should protect me from such
repeated annoyances.” “No,” replied Barca, “in this I cannot interfere.
Malem is a holy man. Please God! you will be enlightened, and I
know the sheikh wishes it; he likes you, and would you stay amongst
us, he would give you fifty slaves of great beauty, build you a house
like his son’s, and give you wives from the families of any of his
subjects you choose!” “Were you to return to England with me,
Kashella, as you sometimes talk about, with the sheikh’s permission,
would it not be disgraceful for you to turn Christian, and remain?
Were I to do as you would have me, how should I answer to my
sultan who sent me?” “God forbid!” said he; “you are comparing our
faiths again. I propose to you eternal paradise, while you would bring
me to ——.” “Not a word more,” said I.—“Good night!” “Peace be
with you! I hope we shall always be friends,” said he. “Please God!”
returned I. “Amen!” said the kashella.
This night we had a more dreadful storm than I ever remember
being out in. The top of my Egyptian tent, which I had preferred
bringing on account of its portability, was carried completely off, and
the pole broken. The brightness of the lightning rendered it more like
noon than midnight: a tamarind-tree was torn up by its roots in the
valley near us; huge masses of stone rolled down the sides of the
mountain; and I crept into a corner of Barca Gana’s outer tent, where
slept his guard; and, although every rag about me was drenched
with water, I was in a short time insensible to the storm which raged
around me.
In the morning, however, I suffered considerably from pains in all
my limbs and head. The Arabs, also, were full of complaints, and
extremely dissatisfied with their situation; they loudly exclaimed
against their delay. They had, for days, eaten nothing but a little flour
and water, without fat: the sultan of Mandara would grant them no
supply, and they demanded of Boo-Khaloom to go on, or turn back.
The rain again fell in torrents, which is an Arab’s greatest dread, and
they assembled round Boo-Khaloom’s tent, almost in a state of
mutiny. Boo-Khaloom himself was excessively ill, more, I believe,
from vexation than sickness. He had a long interview with the sultan,
and returned very much irritated: he merely told me, as he passed,
“that we should move in the evening;” and when I asked, “if every
thing went well?” he merely answered, “In shallah!” (please God).
The Arabs, from whom he kept his destination a secret, received him
with cheers. Whom they were going against they cared but little, so
long as there was a prospect of plunder, and the whole camp
became a busy scene of preparation.
Two hours after noon we commenced our march through a
beautiful valley to the east of Mora, winding round the hills which
overhang the town, and penetrating into the heart of the mass of
mountains nearly to the south of it. About sunset we halted in a very
picturesque spot, called Hairey, surrounded by a superb
amphitheatre of hills. Barca Gana’s tent was pitched under the
shade of one side of an immense tree, called gubberah, much
resembling a fig-tree, although wanting its delicious fruit; and the
remnants of my tent, which had been mended by his people, and
now stood about three feet from the ground, were placed on the
opposite side. The trunks of these trees commonly measure ten and
twelve yards in circumference near the root, and I have seen them
covering more than half an acre of ground with their wide-spreading
branches.
 Pass of Hairy in the Mandara Mountains.

D. Denham. J. & C. Walker Sculp.

(Large-size)

Published as the Act directs Feby. 1826, by John Murray Albemarle St. London.

Soon after our arrival, the sultan’s trumpets announced his

approach, and he took up his station, at no great distance, under a
tree of the same kind: he never used a tent, but slept in an open
space, surrounded by his eunuchs. At Hairey are the remains of a
Mandara town, long since destroyed by the Felatahs; parts of the
mud walls were still standing, and under shelter of these the troops
bivouacked. The scorpions, however, made their appearance in the
course of the night in great numbers, and several men were stung by
them: on hearing the disturbance, and learning the cause, I called
my negro, and, striking a light, we killed three in my tent; one of them
was full six inches in length, of the black kind, exactly resembling
those I had seen in Tripoli.
In consequence of Boo-Khaloom’s illness, it was after daylight
when we broke up from our encampment, and probably the
mountain scenery, by which we were surrounded, could scarcely be
exceeded in beauty and richness. On all sides the apparently
interminable chain of hills closed upon our view: in rugged
magnificence, and gigantic grandeur, though not to be compared
with the Higher Alps, the Apennines, the Jura, or even the Sierra
Morena, in magnitude, yet by none of these were they surpassed in
picturesque interest. The lofty peaks of Vahmy, Savah, Joggiday,
Munday, Vayah, Moyung, and Memay, with clustering villages on
their stony sides, appeared to the east and west of us; while Horza,
exceeding any of her sister hills in height, as well as in beauty,
appeared before us to the south, with its chasm or break through
which we were to pass; and the winding rugged path we were about
to tread was discernible in the distance. The valley in which I stood
had an elevation superior to that of any part of the kingdom of
Bornou, for we had gradually ascended ever since quitting Kouka; it
was in shape resembling a large pentagon, and conveyed strongly
the idea of its having been the bed or basin of some ancient lake, for
the disappearance of which all hypothesis would be vain and
useless. There were the marks of many outlets, some long and
narrow fissures, through which the waters might have broken; the
channel by which we had entered appearing most likely to have
carried off its contents.
On proceeding through the pass of Horza, where the ascent
continued, its perpendicular sides exceeding two thousand five
hundred feet in height, hung over our heads with a projection almost
frightful; the width of the valley did not exceed five hundred yards,
and the salient and re-entering angles so perfectly corresponded,
that one could almost imagine, if a similar convulsion of nature to
that which separated were to bring its sides again together, they
would unite, and leave no traces of their ever having been disjoined.
It was long after mid-day when we came to the mountain stream
called Mikwa, and it afforded an indescribable relief to our almost
famished horses and ourselves: the road, after quitting the Horza
pass, had been through an extensive and thickly-planted valley,
where the tree gubberah, the tamarind, a gigantic wild fig, and the
mangoe (called by the Mandaras ungerengera, and comonah by the
Bornouese), flourished in great numbers and beauty. This was the
first spot I had seen in Africa where Nature seemed at all to have
revelled in giving life to the vegetable kingdom; the leaves presented
a bright luxuriant verdure, and flowers, from a profusion of climbing
parasitical plants, winding round the trunks of the trees, left the
imagination in doubt as to which of them the fair aromatic blossoms
that perfumed the air were indebted for their nourishment. The
ground had frequent irregularities; and broken masses of granite, ten
and twelve feet in height, were lying in several places, but nearly
obscured by the thick underwood growing round them, and by the
trees, which had sprung up out of their crevices. The nearest part of
the hills, to which these blocks could have originally belonged, was
distant nearly two miles.
When the animals had drunk we again moved on, and after
eighteen miles of equally verdant country, more thickly wooded, we
came, after sunset, to another stream, near some low hills, called
Makkeray, where we were to halt for a few hours to refresh, and then
move again, so as to commence an attack on the Felatahs, who
were said to be only about sixteen miles distant, with the morning
sun.
Our supper, this night, which indeed was also our breakfast,
consisted of a little parched corn pounded and mixed with water, the
only food we had seen since leaving Mora. Nothing could look more
like fighting than the preparations of these Bornou warriors, although
nothing could well be more unlike it than the proof they gave on the
morrow. The closely-linked iron jackets of the chiefs were all put on,
and the sound of their clumsy and ill-shapen hammers, heard at
intervals during the night, told the employment of the greater part of
their followers.
About midnight the signal was given to advance. The moon, which
was in her third quarter, afforded us a clear and beautiful light, while
we moved on silently, and in good order, the sultan of Mandara’s
force marching in parallel columns to our own, and on our right. At
dawn, the whole army halted to sully: my own faith also taught me a
morning prayer, as well as that of a Musselman, though but too often
neglected.
As the day broke on the morning of the 28th of April, a most
interesting scene presented itself. The sultan of Mandara was close
on our flank, mounted on a very beautiful cream-coloured horse, with
several large red marks about him, and followed by his six favourite
eunuchs, and thirty of his sons, all being finely dressed, and
mounted on really superb horses; besides which, they had each from
five to six others, led by as many negroes: the sultan had at least
twelve. Barca Gana’s people all wore their red scarfs, or bornouses,
over their steel jackets, and the whole had a very fine effect. I took
my position at his right hand, and at a spot called Duggur we entered
a very thick wood, in two columns, at the end of which it was said we
were to find the enemy.
During the latter part of the night, while riding on in front with
Maramy, the sheikh’s negro, who had accompanied me from Kouka,
and who appeared to attach himself more closely to me as we
approached danger, we had started several animals of the leopard
species, who ran from us so swiftly, twisting their long tails in the air,
as to prevent our getting near them. We, however, now started one
of a larger kind, which Maramy assured me was so satiated with the
blood of a negro, whose carcass we found lying in the wood, that he
would be easily killed. I rode up to the spot just as a Shouaa had
planted the first spear in him, which passed through the neck, a little
above the shoulder, and came down between the animal’s legs; he
rolled over, broke the spear, and bounded off with the lower half in
his body. Another Shouaa galloped up within two arms’ length, and
thrust a second through his loins; and the savage animal, with a
woful howl, was in the act of springing on his pursuer, when an Arab
shot him through the head with a ball, which killed him on the spot. It
was a male panther (zazerma) of a very large size, and measured,
from the point of the tail to the nose, eight feet two inches; the skin
was yellow, and beautifully marked with orbicular spots on the upper
part of the body, while underneath, and at the throat, the spots were
oblong and irregular, intermixed with white. These animals are found
in great numbers in the woods bordering on Mandara: there are also
leopards, the skins of which I saw, but not in great numbers. The
panthers are as insidious as they are cruel; they will not attack any
thing that is likely to make resistance, but have been known to watch
a child for hours, while near the protection of huts or people. It will
often spring on a grown person, male or female, while carrying a
burthen, but always from behind: the flesh of a child or of a young kid
it will sometimes devour, but when any full-grown animal falls a prey
to its ferocity, it sucks the blood alone.
A range of minor hills, of more recent formation than the granite
chain from which they emanate (which I cannot but suppose to form
a part of El Gibel Gumhr, or Mountains of the Moon), approaches
quite to the skirts of the extensive wood through which we were
passing; and numerous deep ravines, and dry water-courses,
rendered the passage tedious and difficult. On emerging from the
wood, the large Felatah town of Dirkulla was perceivable, and the
Arabs were formed in front, headed by Boo-Khaloom: they were
flanked on each side by a large body of cavalry; and, as they moved
on, shouting the Arab war-cry, which is very inspiring, I thought I
could perceive a smile pass between Barca Gana and his chiefs, at
Boo-Khaloom’s expense. Dirkulla was quickly burnt, and another
smaller town near it; and the few inhabitants that were found in them,
who were chiefly infants, and aged persons unable to escape, were
put to death without mercy, or thrown into the flames.
We now came to a third town, in a situation capable of being
defended against assailants ten times as numerous as the besieged:
this town was called Musfeia. It was built on a rising ground between
two low hills at the base of others, forming part of the mass of the
Mandara mountains: a dry wadey extended along the front; beyond
the wadey a swamp; between this and the wood the road was
crossed by a deep ravine, which was not passable for more than two
or three horses at a time. The Felatahs had carried a very strong
fence of palisades, well pointed, and fastened together with thongs
of raw hide, six feet in height, from one hill to the other, and had
placed their bowmen behind the palisades, and on the rising ground,
with the wadey before them; their horse were all under cover of the
hills and the town:—this was a strong position. The Arabs, however,
moved on with great gallantry, without any support or co-operation
from the Bornou or Mandara troops, and notwithstanding the
showers of arrows, some poisoned, which were poured on them
from behind the palisades, Boo-Khaloom, with his handful of Arabs,
carried them in about half an hour, and dashed on, driving the
Felatahs up the sides of the hills. The women were every where
seen supplying their protectors with fresh arrows during this struggle;
and when they retreated to the hills, still shooting on their pursuers,
the women assisted by rolling down huge masses of the rock,
previously undermined for the purpose, which killed several of the
Arabs, and wounded others. Barca Gana, and about one hundred of
the Bornou spearmen, now supported Boo-Khaloom, and pierced
through and through some fifty unfortunates who were left wounded
near the stakes. I rode by his side as he pushed on quite into the
town, and a very desperate skirmish took place between Barca
Gana’s people and a small body of the Felatahs. These warriors
throw the spear with great dexterity; and three times I saw the man
transfixed to the earth who was dismounted for the purpose of firing
the town, and as often were those who rushed forward for that
purpose sacrificed for their temerity, by the Felatahs. Barca Gana,
whose muscular arm was almost gigantic, threw eight spears, which
all told, some of them at a distance of thirty or thirty-five yards, and
one particularly on a Felatah chief, who with his own hand had
brought four to the ground.
 · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·“Incidet ictus,
Ingens ad terram duplicato poplite Turnus.”

Had either the Mandara or the sheikh’s troops now moved up boldly,
notwithstanding the defence these people made, and the
reinforcements which showed themselves to the south-west, they
must have carried the town with the heights overlooking it, along
which the Arabs were driving the Felatahs by the terror their
miserable guns excited; but, instead of this, they still kept on the
other side of the wadey, out of reach of the arrows.
From a Sketch by Major Denham. Engraved by E. Finden.

ATTACK ON MUSFEIA.
Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London.

The Felatahs seeing their backwardness, now made an attack in

their turn: the arrows fell so thick that there was no standing against
them, and the Arabs gave way. The Felatah horse now came on;
and had not the little band round Barca Gana, and Boo-Khaloom,
with a few of his mounted Arabs, given them a very spirited check,
not one of us would probably have lived to see the following day: as
it was, Barca Gana had three horses hit under him, two of which died
almost immediately, the arrows being poisoned, and poor Boo-
Khaloom’s horse and himself received their death-wounds by arrows
of the same description. My horse was badly wounded in the neck,
just above the shoulder, and in the near hind leg: an arrow had
struck me in the face as it passed, merely drawing the blood, and I
had two sticking in my bornouse. The Arabs had suffered terribly;
most of them had two or three wounds, and one dropped near me
with five sticking in his head alone: two of Boo-Khaloom’s slaves
were killed also, near his person.
No sooner did the Mandara and Bornou troops see the defeat of
the Arabs, than they, one and all, took to flight in the most dastardly
manner, without having once been exposed to the arrows of the
enemy, and in the utmost confusion. The sultan of Mandara led the
way, who was prepared to take advantage of whatever plunder the
success of the Arabs might throw in his way, but no less determined
to leave the field the moment the fortune of the day appeared to be
against them.
I now for the first time, as I saw Barca Gana on a fresh horse,
lamented my own folly in so exposing myself, badly prepared as I
was for accidents. If either of my horse’s wounds were from
poisoned arrows, I felt that nothing could save me: however there
was not much time for reflection; we instantly became a flying mass,
and plunged, in the greatest disorder, into that wood we had but a
few hours before moved through with order, and very different
feelings. I had got a little to the westward of Barca Gana, in the
confusion which took place on our passing the ravine which had
been left just in our rear, and where upwards of one hundred of the
Bornowy were speared by the Felatahs, and was following at a
round gallop the steps of one of the Mandara eunuchs, who, I
observed, kept a good look out, his head being constantly turned
over his left shoulder, with a face expressive of the greatest dismay
—when the cries behind, of the Felatah horse pursuing, made us
both quicken our paces. The spur, however, had the effect of
incapacitating my beast altogether, as the arrow, I found afterwards,
had reached the shoulder-bone, and in passing over some rough
ground, he stumbled and fell. Almost before I was on my legs, the
Felatahs were upon me; I had, however, kept hold of the bridle, and
seizing a pistol from the holsters, I presented it at two of these
ferocious savages, who were pressing me with their spears: they
instantly went off; but another who came on me more boldly, just as I
was endeavouring to mount, received the contents somewhere in his
left shoulder, and again I was enabled to place my foot in the stirrup.
Remounted, I again pushed my retreat; I had not, however,
proceeded many hundred yards, when my horse again came down,
with such violence as to throw me against a tree at a considerable
distance; and alarmed at the horses behind him, he quickly got up
and escaped, leaving me on foot and unarmed.
The eunuch and his four followers were here butchered, after a
very slight resistance, and stripped within a few yards of me: their
cries were dreadful; and even now the feelings of that moment are
fresh in my memory: my hopes of life were too faint to deserve the
name. I was almost instantly surrounded, and incapable of making
the least resistance, as I was unarmed—was as speedily stripped,
and whilst attempting first to save my shirt and then my trowsers, I
was thrown on the ground. My pursuers made several thrusts at me
with their spears, that badly wounded my hands in two places, and
slightly my body, just under my ribs on the right side: indeed, I saw
nothing before me but the same cruel death I had seen unmercifully
inflicted on the few who had fallen into the power of those who now
had possession of me; and they were alone prevented from
murdering me, in the first instance, I am persuaded, by the fear of
injuring the value of my clothes, which appeared to them a rich booty
—but it was otherwise ordained.
My shirt was now absolutely torn off my back, and I was left
perfectly naked. When my plunderers began to quarrel for the spoil,
the idea of escape came like lightning across my mind, and without a
moment’s hesitation or reflection I crept under the belly of the horse
nearest me, and started as fast as my legs could carry me for the
thickest part of the wood: two of the Felatahs followed, and I ran on
to the eastward, knowing that our stragglers would be in that
direction, but still almost as much afraid of friends as foes. My
pursuers gained on me, for the prickly underwood not only
obstructed my passage, but tore my flesh miserably; and the delight
with which I saw a mountain-stream gliding along at the bottom of a
deep ravine cannot be imagined. My strength had almost left me,
and I seized the young branches issuing from the stump of a large
tree which overhung the ravine, for the purpose of letting myself
down into the water, as the sides were precipitous, when, under my
hand, as the branch yielded to the weight of my body, a large liffa,
the worst kind of serpent this country produces, rose from its coil, as
if in the very act of striking. I was horror-struck, and deprived for a
moment of all recollection—the branch slipped from my hand, and I
tumbled headlong into the water beneath; this shock, however,
revived me, and with three strokes of my arms I reached the
opposite bank, which, with difficulty, I crawled up; and then, for the
first time, felt myself safe from my pursuers.
Scarcely had I audibly congratulated myself on my escape, when
the forlorn and wretched situation in which I was, without even a rag
to cover me, flashed with all its force upon my imagination. I was
perfectly collected, though fully alive to all the danger to which my
state exposed me, and had already begun to plan my night’s rest, in
the top of one of the tamarind-trees, in order to escape the panthers
which, as I had seen, abounded in these woods, when the idea of
the liffas, almost as numerous, and equally to be dreaded, excited a
shudder of despair.
I now saw horsemen through the trees, still farther to the east,
and determined on reaching them, if possible, whether friends or
enemies; and the feelings of gratitude and joy with which I
recognised Barca Gana and Boo-Khaloom, with about six Arabs,
although they also were pressed closely by a party of the Felatahs,
was beyond description. The guns and pistols of the Arab sheikhs
kept the Felatahs in check, and assisted in some measure the
retreat of the footmen. I hailed them with all my might; but the noise
and confusion which prevailed, from the cries of those who were
falling under the Felatah spears, the cheers of the Arabs rallying and
their enemies pursuing, would have drowned all attempts to make
myself heard, had not Maramy, the sheikh’s negro, seen and known
me at a distance. To this man I was indebted for my second escape;
riding up to me, he assisted me to mount behind him, while the
arrows whistled over our heads, and we then galloped off to the rear
as fast as his wounded horse could carry us: after we had gone a
mile or two, and the pursuit had something cooled, in consequence
of all the baggage having been abandoned to the enemy, Boo-
Khaloom rode up to me, and desired one of the Arabs to cover me
with a bornouse. This was a most welcome relief, for the burning sun
had already begun to blister my neck and back, and gave me the
greatest pain. Shortly after, the effects of the poisoned wound in his
foot caused our excellent friend to breathe his last: Maramy
exclaimed, “Look, look! Boo-Khaloom is dead!” I turned my head,
almost as great an exertion as I was capable of, and saw him drop
from the horse into the arms of his favourite Arab—he never spoke
after. They said he had only swooned; there was no water, however,
to revive him; and about an hour after, when we came to Makkeray,
he was past the reach of restoratives.
About the time Boo-Khaloom dropped, Barca Gana ordered a
slave to bring me a horse, from which he had just dismounted, being
the third that had been wounded under him in the course of the day;
his wound was in the chest. Maramy cried, “Sidi rais! do not mount
him; he will die!” In a moment, for only a moment was given me, I
decided on remaining with Maramy. Two Arabs, panting with fatigue,
then seized the bridle, mounted, and pressed their retreat: in less
than half an hour he fell to rise no more, and both the Arabs were
butchered before they could recover themselves. Had we not now
arrived at the water as we did, I do not think it possible that I could
have supported the thirst by which I was consuming. I tried several
times to speak in reply to Maramy’s directions to hold tight, when we
came to breaks or inequalities in the ground; but it was impossible;
and a painful straining at the stomach and throat was the only effect
produced by the effort.
On coming to the stream, the horses, with blood gushing from
their nostrils, rushed into the shallow water, and, letting myself down
from behind Maramy, I knelt down amongst them, and seemed to
imbibe new life by the copious draughts of the muddy beverage
which I swallowed. Of what followed I have no recollection: Maramy
told me afterwards that I staggered across the stream, which was not